Instinctive Happiness
by Alto2
Summary: He had grown up dark, he knew that, but he couldn't form Voldermort. Finding hope and love in the arms of Sirius Black had been his salvation. Sirius Black/OMC slight veela references


Hi! Once again the inspiration bug has shot me, and this one-shot is the result. Its a little rough around the edges, but that can all be dealt with later if needed, in the meantime, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or his world, nor do I profit from this story in anything other than satisfaction.

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><p>He'd never pictured himself being in a situation like this, never even known there were situations like this to picture really. His upbringing had been very structured, too structured most muggles and light siders would say, but it had been the way things were done. He was, from a young age, taught to bow to his fathers will, and his mother's if it didn't interfere with the prior, and that everyone else was to be under him after that. Other heirs were playmates to manipulate to follow his will, and outsmart if they were clever so he didn't fall into their traps. Other adults were there to charm when appropriate, and to be spied on when possible so their true (or at least differing) opinions could be related back later.<p>

Once he'd first used accidental magic he was given teachers to slowly educate him on magical basics and to test for any special skills, than later aptitude tests so that he would have no weaknesses at Durmstrang, only strengths and greater strengths. From a baby he'd been given toys, ones only pureblood families used any more, handed down from generations. Toys keyed to a family's magic and blood that helped him start channeling his magic and make it less wild, using his own magic in a way he later found out that muggle baby's use energy from batteries, to make toy's work and to tame his strength so he wouldn't make a fool of himself using magic by accident in public.

Then, once he'd begun schooling he got lessons on finance, on proper courtship rules, on politics, on how to acquire something you shouldn't or charm those you should. He did them by owl with his father while in school, learning family secrets and tactics through encoded messages that were always cold and impersonal, but he hadn't known that it should be any different with a father than. It was during his fourth year that things began to change. He'd begun to get new messages, contradicting from those he'd learned from the crib. He now received news of his _Lord_, someone that wasn't his father or mother, yet was supposed to be above him in his standing.

Even though it wasn't the lesson that his father tried to teach him, when the Dark Lord began to rise again he learned something very important, no matter what you believed was superior and correct power could influence and change even the strongest minds. Family values and traditions he'd been raised to take pride in fell to the wayside as, three years after the murmurings of the Dark Lords return his father was called away to a meeting. He'd been at the Triwizard Finals in a support of his al ma mater when it happened, and as such was at home when his father came back.

The man that from infancy he'd learned to fear and yet respect, whose iron will he'd thought had been unbreakable had immediately crumpled to the floor upon arrival. He'd been so far gone he hadn't even thrown out his heir and the house elves to avoid his weakness being seen. No instead his father had clutched onto the carpet, ragged dirty nails catching on the ancient threads, as he held back pained moans and whimpers. His aristocratic voice, usually able to easily tear down anyone he felt disdain for with the smoothness of finest silk, was hoarse and breaking on each word as he croaked for a pain potion.

Only after he'd regained some sense had he thrown all but his wife out, and it was only because of his father's pain that the man was too distracted to prevent him from spying once removed. However, it was after he'd heard what had occurred that he felt the barest wish that he'd gone to his room, to remain ignorant and unaffected any more by the night's events.

He pushed that regret aside quickly with disgust at himself shortly after the thought crossed his mind, knowledge was a way of self-preservation and he couldn't have gone forward blind. There would have been no other chance to hear of the Dark Lord, to understand the true horror of the man his father would have him follow, until it was too late. And if he'd left it alone it would have been too late. He would have accepted the silence in place of explanation, and followed his father's directions. He would have gone on to earn the admiration of this dark group, and then been inducted into its ranks.

Offered up as a sacrificial lamb by the flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, magic of his magic; all in return for his fathers continued place in the ranks of Death Eater's, that's what the plan had been. Forged on that very night in desperation but also cunning, his father had told his mother all of this. Had explained that they needed to do this, to build up their lord's power. Then, firmly and confidently, no remorse in his tone, he had informed his wife that they would have to birth another heir.

Tossed aside for his father's selfish gains, that's all he'd been good for in the end, helping his father attain his own selfish goals.

So, he'd done the only thing he could, self-preservation being his only thought as he pushed everything else deep into his mind, held back by walls of self-will and occlumency to be analyzed later. He'd gone immediately to his room and, during the deceptively quiet and peaceful hours between dusk and dawn, he'd packed every earthly belonging that held any value to him. He'd taken only the family heirlooms already gifted to him and under his name, knowing the magic would recognize his ownership and not betray him, and cast a sorrowful eye at those he must leave behind and likely never see again. He'd packed all clothing he possessed, knowing he must be prepared for any occasion or disguise, hoping he could possibly have enough to last however long the need persisted. He'd taken the little gold in his room, vowing to be at gringotts in the morning before his father and mother rose so that he may clean out his personal vault before they could get to it. Or, more likely, stake out the office until he appeared to remove more and strike while he was exiting, defensive magic down in respect for the Goblins. No, best to get it all now, he could plan after he'd gathered all he could.

Without casting an eye around his room to take in its emptiness, he deter idly gathered everything and shrunk it, placing it all in a robe pocket charmed to only accept his hand, and had left before his thoughts could break free of their cage. He snuck out of the house, using the ancient escape passages of his ancestors, knowing they were a last resort and the one place his father wouldn't have alarms. He'd always respected his heritage too much to abuse them for the sake of sneaking out, and that worked in his favor now as he got out undetected. He had to tighten the hold on his emotions again as he got out, the feel of his ancestors ancient magic seeping into him comfortingly at his distress, the knowledge he might never feel it again too much to bear and he broke down briefly. Silent sobs and a lone tear making its silver path down his face, the light of the moon glistening in a mockery of beauty in the wake of his absolute sorrow.

When he could breathe again, the depression pushed away for the moment, he made his way to the forest around what would no longer be his home in truth and made his way to the edge of the apparition wards surrounding. Then he went further, knowing that there were traps awaiting those who believed the wards would be the only protection this far out, and apparated to the rarely used room in Knockturn built for this purpose. Inwardly cursing his forgetfulness he wiped his tear, hoping that there was nothing he didn't detect that might have witness his weakness, and made his wake to the bank. Glad that he was close and that the opening would be soon.

When he arrived he stood in a dark alley right besides the marble building, waiting out the last minutes before opening while he staved off the turmoil within. Even now the phantom of the magic of his relatives rang hallow down to his core, the knowledge that it was gone for good making the separation more painful than even his initial first experience of it.

He pushed all that back when the time chimed the morning had come, knowing that the building would now accept him, and he made his way inside.

His deep breath just before entering was the only sign of his strain to clear his mind and magic as he entered, knowing that he would seem disrespectful if he let his own turmoil push against the Goblin's sensitive sense's especially at the start of a busy day. Once he felt he'd managed he picked up the pace to walk up to an open goblin counter, politely requesting to see his vault.

After charming all of that in his private vault into a pouch that he pocketed with his other possessions he returned to the entrance, pretending not to see the knowing expression that followed him out.

It was only once he'd exited the building that he had been at a loss of what to do, how he could possibly manage on his own with such powerful opponents against him. He'd escaped to save himself, and knew it was too late to reverse the damage, but part of him wanted to take it back anyway as the aimlessness that he felt at the loss of the structure that plagued his life was creeping in to mix with the anguish that almost overwhelmed him.

Eventually he settled on hiding in Bulgaria for the night, knowing that unlike him his own father had not attended Durmstrang and it was one land that he had an advantage in.

-ii

Months later he found himself in a situation so different from his previous life that the pain was never absent from his soul because of it. He had moved around quite a bit, but had managed to stay in the land of the cold and fur, the land of alcohol and tradition. The problems had grown here, rumors of madness in England tempered with whispers of a war not that far away on the horizon. He got close to no one and trusted no friends, knowing that with his father's cultivation of his life anyone he might've trusted would be hunting for him or in just as much trouble and, as such, just as suspicious and weary.

He'd spent the time thinking about what his plans of action could be, learning all he could about the coming conflict and the truth behind the views, and though he still had more gaps in his knowledge than he would like he was confident he would trust neither the light nor the Dark. Both were perversions of their true meanings, and he marveled at how centuries of tradition and knowledge had been laid at the wayside for the power of a leader that supported their follower's secret bias or desires. It was truly sickening, and his heart at his thoughts.

He had one person, but though he believed in his instincts could not fathom why he should act on it. The logic was sound, but it was hopeful and idealist, to believe that someone else might be stuck in the middle and would not only accept him with open arms and help him was pathetic. It was hopeful in a way he'd never truly been before, and that was cause for suspicion. But, a small, tiny part of him wanted to try anyway, and after 2 months of running and hiding he decided to just give in and hope for the best. Because he couldn't think of anything else and he could feel his sanity hanging by a thread at all the changes in his life. He needed someone who knew the mannerism's, who could communicate with him in the language of body and hidden meanings that was all he'd ever known.

So, with desperation in his soul and a fearful hope in his heart he went back to England, determined to find Sirius Black.

It took two weeks before he finally could, and once he had he knew that he'd made the right choice, despite how their meeting would go this was the person he could be safe with. How he knew this was a mystery, but the point in fact was he knew it. So, when he saw the black shaggy dog walking on the heels of the so called boy-who-lived and felt the pull and knowledge this was who he sought, he immediately began to follow.

He used every precaution, chasing their forms from shop to shop by way of shadow, a blood trait that he'd been lucky to inherit from his father's line. His magic sung at the use, practically purring at the renewed connection to the structure of his core, his family connection renewed with the use of it. So, when he finally saw the black dog wander off curiously to sniff around the building they'd stopped at, obviously checking the perimeter alone he thought of what to do. Somehow just stunning him and apparating to a safe spot seemed wrong, too…dominate or something similar, and as he had followed his instincts here he listened to it, instead hiding in an alley yet to be checked knowing he had to catch the dogs attention than.

So, as soon as the canine came around the bend, looking at him curiously, he let down his guard. Posture relaxing against the rough worn brick behind his back he looked the dog in the eye, using his mind to project thoughts in that direction, to be ignored or listened to as the dog chose.

The widening of eyes was his only immediate reaction, but then he felt a mind connect to his own, taking the thoughts he fed it. He might have given too much, but he felt this might be his only shot and so showed the desperation of his situation. He let the other know his family name, see when he'd first been told to serve the Dark Lord in his fourth year, quickly getting on to what he'd overheard from his father before the other could take that the wrong way. He showed how he'd instantly left it all, gave tidbits of his research, his reasons for not going dark. The pain he felt at betraying his very existence by going light.

He laid everything bare for this man turned dog that he'd never met, trusting despite all the knowledge he had telling him not too, and in the end it had been worth it.

His wand had been removed gently from his hand, a paw casting spells even as it lost fur and quickly became human flesh instead, and looked into eyes that were so knowing. Not just for what he told but as if he understood. And then, it was him getting thoughts waved in front of him, and just like the other he accepted. He saw short moments of a childhood eerily similar, if slightly more harsh made by the madness of a mother versus a rebellious son once teenage years hit. He saw the pain at a loss of a man named James, and the conviction to help his godson, even when he'd been released and seen how ensconced in the light the boy was, just like his father.

He got so lost in the memories it took a second for the meaning to sink in, for the pain in those eyes to make sense, he was being rejected. The other was telling him he understood, but he'd already chosen the light anyway, for his only remaining connection to the brief happiness in his past.

He felt pain that was soul, bone, and magic deep at the thought, and knew he couldn't let it happen.

The widening of eyes gave away that he'd projected the effects his realization had had, and knowing there was no going back now he spoke for the first time out loud during the meeting.

"I can't explain it, but I belong nowhere else than where you are. Please," here his voice cracked, and he was too chocked up on emotion to feel mortified for it. "I won't betray your secrets, I can't…actively force my magic to conform to the lights expectations but…I can let things carry one while the war goes on and," his voice didn't so much crack as sob this time, he felt a tear track its way down his face. "I would protect you as your presence alone has already begun to protect me from a madness that I fear grows ever closer."

Without a word in response he, somehow, knew what Sirius' response was. He felt relief for the first time in a long while at the knowledge.

It had only been hours later, once he was ensconced in a room in Grimauld Place, that he realized he'd never asked for his wand back. It seemed that that was the same time that the other had realized it too for he'd returned to gift it back to him. The next weeks and months that passed were very similar to each other. He was not allowed out of his room at night, and during the day only to the bathroom and back. He'd charmed the house elf into providing meals with the Black head's help, and as such didn't need to leave for food.

His daily boredom was only broken up by the constant company of Sirius Black. They never spoke of the war, of what went on outside, but they did speak of magic. They practiced traditions long forgotten by all but the oldest dark families, thanking our ancestors for our magic gifts. Asking for their guidance when the seclusion became too much, taking comfort in each other's presence in absence of the family that should've been taking part in these actions with us. The compatible cool darkness of our magic entwining and caressing, my own purring in pleasure whenever the other was near.

I had been in the house for a week when I noticed the changes that must have been gradual, but unnoticed by myself before in the hurt place I had resided in before Sirius. The instinctual need for the other man, my trust, the new awareness I had that hadn't been present before. Slowly I came to terms with the fact that I had been part veela all my life and had it suppressed. Sirius had held me as I cried with the realization of more lies in my life, seeming to know why without my verbalization of the matter.

Slowly I accepted that he too was the same, and thus stemmed my instinctual trust and his immediate help. However, I also learned that that was only a small part of my mind, and it took the weeks of constant company for me to trust him in a way that was purely human, as opposed to what I automatically was. He seemed to do the same, and it became that we grew so close so fast that I thought I would die by the simple act of his absence for too long a time.

When I realized what this was a sign of I was hit with flashbacks of our interactions. There was so much contact between us, he was always touching me and I was always leaning into it, practically begging for more. I hadn't reciprocated though, I soon noticed, I only accepted. This explained his reluctance to do more, for I had realized that I was his mate, as he'd been waiting for me to do. I could see all this now.

So, next when he'd entered the room I'd looked at him, strength returning with dark curls tumbling over broad shoulders despite his lack of weight. Mesmerizing grey smoky eyes taking in me as I appraised him. Chorded arms muscled still despite everything, old silken cloths adorning his body, hiding more skin I wanted to see. I brought my eyes back up to his to see emotions that matched mine staring back.

I knew this was right; this is what I'd been waiting for my whole life. Avoiding messing around with other boys and girls despite others doing it behind their parents backs. Wishing of a faceless lover and yet having no desire for those around me. I had been waiting for _this_ man. Wantinghim to _hold me_. To _claim me_ as he'd claimed my soul without ever knowing who I was.

When we came together that night it was perfection. There was pain, and confusion in my mind, and worry in his eyes, but it was the two of us together and nothing could ruin that.

The first time our skin touched, his roughened muscles caging in my unblemished form I had gripped him tight to me, pulling him down till he crushed my smaller body covering me fully. Moaning and bearing my neck to the assault he'd laved on my neck at the action, gratefully accepting kisses, licks, bites, and the blood smeared kiss he'd presented to me afterword. Tongues mingling and body's merging to one.

He'd taken his time with me, seeming to have his hands and mouth all over my sensitive flesh and yet not covering me enough. He'd been gentle with burning pleasure, stroking my thighs and stomach as he left love bites down my chest, sucking my nipples until they glistened with his saliva and were painful in their hardness. Then he'd been rough, nibbling on the stiff nubs as his fingers found their way into my mouth. Digits moving between my swollen lips in a parody of fucking as his other hand dug sharp nails into the cheek of my ass, pulling it aside as his fingers finally stopped their assault to move down. A combination of gentleness as roughness making me sob with pleasure and beg for more as his fingers worked me slowly than roughly, gentling to just one digit again before repeating with three fingers abusing the entrance to my body. The pleasure of this added with his alternating licks and bites, caresses and possessive grabs, broke any composure I might have had.

I was a slave to his will as his eyes bore into mine, voice commanding my attention as he spoke of the things he would do to me. How he would use by body for his pleasure, and then how he would bring me to heights I had never dreamed of. He spoke possessively and lovingly, everything I could want and more as he kept on working me, rising up on his knees to straddle my face.

Letting me learn the way of bringing him into my mouth without pressure as he sang my praises, than holding me still as he put my new knowledge to use, fucking my still swollen lips as his fingers before had done.

Then he pulled away as he began to tighten closer to his body, staving off his impending orgasm to make his way back down. Spreading me wide and lifting my hips into the air as his arms locked around the tops of my thighs bending me in half as he brought my lower half closer to his mouth. His eyes boring into mine as he claimed my clenching hole with his tongue, bringing me even closer to the height of pleasure my moans and gasps sounding loud next to the slick sounds of what he was doing below. Then he lowered me again keeping my thighs wide. He kept me in place mesmerized by his gaze, his want reflecting mine back as he brought himself to my entrance. Our combined saliva eased the way but the burn was still there, and so he eased his way in at an agonizingly slow pace.

Once he was seated as close as possible in this position he paused, checking my face for signs of strain before moving just as slowly out. He came back in at a different angle, seeking a place deep inside me that he luckily got on the third attempt. A wicked grin stretching across his face at the response I made to this.

Then he made a pace, going long, deep, and slowly, only to pick up as I begged for more. Soon he was pistoning inside of me, sweat glistening all over our frames as we slid against each other. His arms hot and slick under my hands as I grabbed them, and then his firm shoulders to hang on.

His control and mine had been stretched thin by all the foreplay, and as such we continued on this path only gaining speed as we headed towards our final destination. As we came, I quickly followed by him, everything seemed to disappear. The only sounds our combined breathing as he lay one me, still buried deep and we gained our bearings.

We went at it many times more that night, and the days that followed. I kept my promise to stand by him, and as such was there to stop his almost death at the hands of his cousin Bellatrix, and other similar events.

True to his word though, he never made me conform my beliefs, and long after the war was over we worked to slowly bring back awareness to traditions of our forbearers. Things that hurt no one, and were still hard to get to be accepted, but something I never gave up on and thus him.

Yes, I had found myself in a situation that was very different from what I expected my future to be like as a child. Sometimes I still have my moments, times when the pain sinks in and aimlessness grows. However, I always have my Sirius there to bring me back, to calm me and hold me. We loved each other as our family's never could, we had a bond that none could break though they could try.

He was my _everything_. He was_ my mate._

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><p>Well, how did I do? don't do much smut at the moment, but as a fan I'm devinately not averse to it. Like or hate? Please let me know!<p>

Till next time :)


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